Into the Abyss
by Mickey3
Summary: A series of drabbles and ficlets based on the episode 'Abyss'. I'm rating this a 'K plus' overall, but parts of it do have strong language and torture. Consider yourself warned.
1. Jack

TITLE: Jack

AUTHOR: Mickey

E-MAIL: STATUS: Completed 11-10-05

SERIES/SEQUEL INFO: Companion piece to 'Kanan'.

SEASON: 6

SPOILERS: Abyss

CATEGORIES: Ficlet, POV, Angst, Missing Scene/Episode Tag.

PAIRINGS: None

CONTENT LEVEL: C

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

SUMMARY: Jack's thoughts on Kanan's actions.

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for fun and I sure as hell didn't get paid for writin' it. No copyright infringement intended.

WORD COUNT: 224

AUTHORS NOTE: Written for the November 4th Jackfic drabble word 'Chaos'. As always, many thanks to my beta, Cokie.

* * *

My mind is in chaos. It's intentional. Mostly.

So much for the Tok'ra and their 'truly symbiotic relationship' crap.

I've clearly posted 'No Trespassing' signs all over the place and this joker is blatantly ignoring them. If he really gave a damn about me (or any host for that matter) he'd respect my boundaries.

Crap! One minute he worming his snaky little body into my mouth, next I'm on my hands and knees on the muddy ground with this searing pain in my back. How the Sam Hell did I get here? For that matter, where is here?

Oh gross! Puking up snake really sucks! I close my eyes as I groan and collapse face first into the mud. I start to crawl and shudder inwardly as I hear the approaching Jaffa. This will not be fun. Not that it'll last long. A boot-clad foot steps on my hand. Who's he calling Tok'ra? He calls one of his buddies and I'm turned onto my back.

The pain is unbearable. Somehow, I know that death won't end my suffering for long. Where there are Jaffa, there are Goa'uld's. Where there are Goa'uld's, there are sarcophagi. God, I _really_ hate those things.

The Jaffa yells again. As death mercifully claims me, my last thought is 'This is _so_ the last time I _ever_ trust a snake'.

THE END


	2. Abysmal

Abysmal

STORY STATUS: Completed 2-12-06

CATEGORIES: Drabble, Angst

WORD COUNT: 100

AUTHORS NOTE: When I wrote 'Jack' I didn't really intend on doing a sequel. A few weeks ago I got an idea and started working on one. I was working on it when the idea for this one snuck up on me. Since this comes first, I figured I should actually finish and post it first. This is starting to look like it might become a series. :sigh: That was _so_ not my intention. Oh well. Enjoy.

Thanks to my beta Cokie for betaing (of course) and for suggesting the title.

* * *

For crying out loud! Does the word photosensitive mean anything to you people? Is it really to much to as that ya dim the lights in here just a little, Doc?

You don't look like the usual nurse.

"The host lives my Lord."

Lord? What the . . . ?

My addled mind clears quickly in light (pun intended) of my current situation.

Damn. I was apparently kidnapping some slimy snakeheads slave when his Jaffa caught up to us. I took two staff blasts to the back.

I died.

Oh crap. A sarcophagus.

This _so_ not going to be fun.

_THE END_


	3. Out of the Frying Pan

Out of the Frying Pan . . .

STORY STATUS: Completed 6/7/06

CATEGORIES: Ficlet, Whump, Angst

Content Level: C+

CONTENT WARNINGS: Torture.

WORD COUNT: 260

AUTHORS NOTE: A very late entry for the April 28th Jackfic weekly challenge word 'Pillow'.

* * *

Tall, blond and ugly times two lead me down through the corridors to a large room.

Ouch! Gravity works.

In a very weird way.

Oh yeah, this is so _not_ fun.

Damn. However he's holding me to this over sized metallic spider web, it's strong. It's hard as hell to turn over. Not to mention the damn thing is just hard period. A pillow would be nice. Guess I'm not going anywhere anytime soon.

Dang. This guy should have his picture in the dictionary under creepy. He's definitely got the 'I'm the big bad Gou'ald, fear me!' look down pat.

Ahhh, twenty questions. My favorite game.

Not! Time to break out the ole O'Neill charm.

Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with knives? Nor is it nice to use them on people. I can honestly say I've never seen one like that before. This is gonna hurt.

Crap! Guess she didn't. See, told ya Carter, aliens are _always_ poking me full of holes. A bit rude, I'd say.

Yipee. Round two.

_Crap!_ Someday I'll learn not to antagonize the psychos with the knives.

Or not.

Doesn't this guy understand the meaning of 'I don't have a freaking clue what your talking about!'?

And lookie here, yet another knife. He releases a third knife, which sinks deep into my chest. Okay! That really hurts!

Damn knife is acting like a stopper so there isn't much blood leaking outta me, but I can feel my grasp on life slipping.

That sarcophagus is looking pretty damn good right about now.

_THE END_


	4. Another Plain of Exsistence

**Another Plain of Existence**

By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 7/14/06

SPOILERS: Abyss, minor for Meridian

WORD COUNT: 559

* * *

Oh goodie. Tall blond and stupid one and two are back again.

On second thought, maybe that sarcophagus isn't such a good thing. Kinda freaky waking up to a bright white light. Especially since I _know_ there won't be any angels coming for me when I finally kick the bucket permanently.

OK, that's weird. Pretty cool too. Not that I'll tell them that.

Nope, won't be busting that window.

What was that noise?

"Is it you?"

What the . . .? Who is she and how the heck is she sitting like that without falling in here?

I turn my head quickly as I hear another voice.

"Hi Jack."

Not that I'm not thrilled to see him, but how the hell did Daniel get in here? I'm not sure I believe my own eyes and ears. "Daniel?"

"I leave and look at the mess you get yourself into."

Yeah, well, who's idea was it that you leave. Ya know, the whole glowy thing. Besides, I was the one always having to keep _you_ out of trouble, not the other way around. Remember?

I must be delusional. One way to find out. Yup, thought so, went right through him.

He's says I'm imagining things. What does he know?

I pick up my shoe as we talk and can't help my sarcastic remarks.

All right then, if I'm not imagining this he can get my butt out of here.

Can't interfere? Oh please! When has Doctor Daniel-I-must-put-my-two-cents-in-on-everything-Jackson ever _not_ interfered? What makes this time so different?

Somehow, I think Oma would consider this "interfering".

"What good is the power to make the wind blow or toss lightning around if you can't use it to spring an old friend out of jail?" Come on Danny boy; show me what you can do!

Thanks for nothing.

Smooth. Change the subject. No, I don't have a damn clue what I'm doing in Baal's little fun house. I don't really care either. I just want out! How about you Mister Know It All? Tell me why I'm here.

Tell me something I don't know, smart-ass.

"I can't believe I actually let them put a snake in my head. My head! I agreed to this!"

If it had shared anything then I'd know why I was here Daniel. There was definitely not any sharing in this so called symbiotic relationship. I never really did buy that line of bull.

Nope. Well, I have a vague idea. Doesn't help me much though. Figures it would have something to do with a woman. Although, with the normal Tok'ra attitude being what it is, I'm very shocked the snake cared. Couldn't have cared too much since he used her then left her here in the first place.

"Nobody knows you're here."

You've got to be kidding me! That snaky little bastard walked my body out of the Tok'ra base without _anyone_ realizing we were leaving? No wonder they keep getting their butts kicked. Not very bright or observant, are they?

A Fortress you say? How nice.

Repeated torture, death, and revival you say? Well aren't you just the cheerful one today?

"No, I'm not going to let that happen. I won't let him destroy you."

"You said you couldn't help."

Blah, blah, blah . . .

Did he just say, help _me_ ascend? He's got to be kidding.

Right?

_THE END_


	5. Not a Snowball's Chance

**Not a Snowball's Chance**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 7/22/06

CATEGORIES: Angst, Ficlet, Friendship, Missing Scene, Series

CONTENT WARNINGS: Be warned, thare be bad words in this fic.

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 506

AUTHORS NOTE: Many thanks, as always, to my beta, Cokie!

* * *

Okay, so . . . not kidding. 

"So, you want to be my Oma?"

"Well, you could put it that way. I mean I wouldn't, but maybe that's just me."

Of course you wouldn't. Okay Danny boy, Q and A time.

What the hell do you mean you don't know! You want me to join the 'look at me, I'm a firefly' fan club without telling me what that entails? I don't _think_ so!

"If I'm going to catch the next plain of existence out of here you gotta give me something."

Amazing journey my butt. That tells me absolutely squat, my friend.

Nice, now you're trying to confuse me with Oma quotes. She's worse than Carter with her techno babble.

Open _my_ mind? Did you forget who you're talking to?

There's not a snowballs chance in hell your good buddy Oma will allow it anyway. With everything I've done in my life, I'd be amazed if the devil wants my soul.

"One step at a time." Easy for you to say. Sorry, Daniel, but you are way to trusting, too forgiving. You have no idea about half the things I've seen. The things I've _done_. My soul is so far past damned it's ridiculous. And irredeemable. Save the offer for someone who deserves it.

Besides, the whole glowy thing just isn't for me. What's the point in having all that power and knowledge if you can never use it to help those who need help? I'd get kicked out in about an hour. Might last two, but I doubt it.

"There's got to be another way out of this."

Come on help a buddy out here! Throw me a bone for crying out loud!

Like I hadn't figured _that_ out on my own, Daniel. I got the distinct impression ole Bocce boy gets a big kick out of hurting people.

So, don't let there be a next time! "That's when we move. The next time they come for me."

Like hell I can't. I've done the whole prison thing a time or four. I just need a little help and I'll be home before you can say torture.

"You can't fight your way out of this."

"Then _help_ me!" Damn it, Daniel, why won't you help me?

"I'll be back. I promise."

That doesn't help me. I hear a sound and look up. Crap. So soon? It can't have been more than a half-an-hour since the last time. I look back at Daniel.

He's gone.

I try to make myself a part of the wall. Not that it will help. I can't hide the fear. I know it shows on my face, and in my eyes, as plain as day.

This is so much worse than Iraq. At least there, the dead stayed dead. Dying is so much more frightening when you know it isn't the end.

The room tilts and I'm slammed into the other wall. Or should I call it the floor now?

God, Daniel, help me. Please. Don't let him do this to me.

_THE END_


	6. Second Verse, Same As the First

**Second Verse, Same As the First**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 7/22/06

CATEGORIES: Ficlet, Missing Scene, Whump, Series

CONTENT WARNINGS: Torture, nothing graphic.

WORD COUNT: 413

AUTHORS NOTE: Many thanks, as always, to my beta, Cokie!

* * *

Second verse, same as the first. 

It's ridiculous what pops into your head when you're about to be tortured.

I can't get that stupid Henry the Eighth song out of my head as I'm guided back to Bouncy Boy's torture room.

We enter the room and, once again, I'm sucked up against the oversized metal spider web. I flip myself over and wait for the questions to begin.

Bocce doesn't disappoint.

"What was your mission here?"

Is he hard of hearing, or just thick headed? We went over this last time.

"I told you before, Bocce, there was no mission. I've got absolutely _no_ idea how I got here." Well, that's not entirely true. I have very vague recollections of going through the Tok'ra Stargate and coming here. Then of running through the forest with a woman. Must be the slave he mentioned last time.

Not that I'll ever tell him that.

"What did you want with my slave?"

Back to that too. "What slave. I don't have a clue what you're babbling about."

His face reddens oh so slightly at that. I can see he's never experienced my kind of sarcasm before. Or my impudence, as he put it. He clearly isn't amused.

Tough. I don't do the 'roll over and give up without a fight' thing.

Oh crap. That weird ass knife again. He goes on about what kind of pain he's going to inflict on me as he lines up one after the other on his table. I count five.

This is _so_ not going to be fun.

"Why did you come here?"

"I don't even know where here is." It's not a lie.

He obviously doesn't believe me and lets the first knife fly.

I groan as it is hits my shoulder.

The routine goes on. He asks a question. I give a smart-ass reply. And another knife buries itself deep into my flesh.

Knife number two hits my other shoulder; number three gets me in the gut. I think he hit something vital with that one. After the fourth one, which is embedded in my lungs making it _extremely_ difficult to breathe, he goes on about what an all-powerful god he is again.

It's really getting old.

He's holding up knife number five, but I can't really hear what he's saying anymore. Too much of my blood is making a lovely red puddle on the floor. Knife number five is released and I slip into sweet oblivion again.

_THE END_


	7. An Endless Cycle

**An Endless Cycle**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 7/22/06

CATEGORIES: Angst, Ficlet, Whump, Missing Scene, Series

CONTENT WARNINGS: Torture, a bad word or two.

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 527

AUTHORS NOTE: Many thanks, as always, to my beta, Cokie!

* * *

Another visit to the sarcophagus revives me. Unfortunately. 

I'm dropped in my cell again.

"You shouldn't have come."

That voice again. Again I have to wonder how she can sit like that and not fall in. I close my eyes and shake my head. She's gone when I reopen them. I must be losing it.

Okay, Danny. You can pop back in any time now.

I wait for what seems like an eternity, but is likely only a few minutes, but he doesn't show.

Baal's blonde goons show up sometime later.

Here we go again.

He must be letting them watch this time because my escorts make no effort to leave. They have good poker faces, but their eyes are a light with sadistic glee at being allowed to witness this.

Nice, this time he has the knives _and_ a Zat.

More ominous talk about what he's going to do to me. Another question and smart-ass reply. I tense as I wait for the inevitable pain that follows the impact of knife on flesh.

He picks up the Zat.

Oh _God_ that hurt! I thought it was bad just getting zatted. Being zatted while stuck to this godforsaken thing is much _much_ worse.

I must have passed out briefly. Tall blonde and stupid are gone. Bet they're disappointed. Poor babies.

Yet another question. Another wiseass remark, yet another flying knife.

I consider keeping my wise cracks to myself, but it won't make any difference. Besides, what fun would that be? He's going to torture me to death no matter what I say. I might as well have a little fun with him.

More questions and non-answers. _SHIT_ the zat again. That really doesn't feel good.

Now there's the understatement of the decade.

And so it goes until I once again have five new holes in my body and I've effectively been electrocuted three times. His aim is amazingly good. No new holes in the shirt. Each knife has hit where he'd got me last time. He also knows just when he can zat me again without killing me. Wouldn't due to have me die early and spoil his fun now would it?

Apparently, that's not the end of it this time. Again I'm no longer paying any attention to what he's saying as I'm concentrating all my effort on breathing. I wait anxiously for that last knife that will end this agony, temporary as that relief will be. It doesn't come.

Instead, he pushes a button and I'm falling through space. I land on the hard floor with a sickening, bone crunching thud. I think I was supposed to land in the sarcophagus.

I missed. Well, not entirely. My right arm and hip connected with it. They're shattered beyond repair. I can feel it. Beyond repair for any doctor anyway. Once they scoop me up and stick back in the magic box, I'll be good as new in no time.

Physically anyway. I feel like a part of me is missing each time that damn lid slides open and I'm dragged out.

The approaching darkness is both a blessing and a curse.

When will this end?

_THE END_


	8. And Into the Fire

**. . . And Into the Fire**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 7/29/06

CATEGORIES: Ficlet, POV, Angst, Missing Scene, Series

CONTENT WARNINGS: Torture, Language

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 939

AUTHORS NOTE: Many thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta, Cokie!

* * *

You know, this whole 'kill the Tauri then bring him back again' thing is getting really old. Never really been too fond of blinding white lights. 

I take it back. What I said about the sarcophagus, that is. It just isn't all it's cracked up to be.

How about we play 'kill the sadistic son-of-a-bitch snake' instead. Or maybe 'beat the shit out of a pair of nitwitted, blond, jarhead Jaffa'?

Or not.

Whoa. What's in the bottle? I have a very bad feeling I really don't want to know.

_Crap_

Acid? Burns like it. Must be. Can't be fire, no flames. Guess he got tired of the knives. I definitely didn't see this coming.

"The Telvac acid will take some time to burn through all the way. Though it cauterizes the flesh as it burns, very small amounts often finds its way into the blood and begins to spread."

Well, thanks for letting me know. That was information I _really_ didn't need or want to hear. But, then again, that was the point, wasn't it? Mental torture, the fear and anticipation of what is to come, is almost always worse than the physical pain. The Iraqi's, and a few others, illustrated that point quite vividly to me. Baal has mastered that concept. He's mastered it as an art form, I'd say.

Pissed 'em off royally when it didn't work. Much. They couldn't break me, and neither will you.

"Why have you returned here, Tok'ra?"

"I'm human." Man! Talk about dense. For creatures that claim to be so smart and all knowing, the Goa'uld aren't to bright. Hell, they make me look good even when I put on my best, I'm-just-the-dumb-colonel-pay-no-attention-to-me, act. Or, at least Bocce isn't. How many times do I have to tell him I am _not_ a Tok'ra and I don't know anything about his slave?

It's only a little lie. I sure as hell ain't no damn Tok'ra, but I do know a little about why I'm here, well, the only thing I really know is the slaves name. I'm not telling that to mister nobody-told-me-goatees-where-_so_-last-year, though.

"I don't know and I don't care!" Actually, that's not entirely true either. As a whole, they're only _maybe_ a notch or two above the Goa'uld, but there are one or two I don't mind. Jacob and Selmak immediately come to mind.

"I don't remember!"

I really don't remember his name. Don't want to either. He's probably already dead so any thoughts of revenge are moot.

"The Tok'ra retain the memory of both the host and the symbiote. You are O'Neill. What was the name of your symbiote?"

This guy just doesn't let up. I'll give the snakeheads one thing; they are a determined bunch of bastards and bastard. . . ettes. Can't forget the female ones. Wouldn't want them to feel left out.

Not to get off subject here, but there is smoke coming out of my chest. Kinda blows the whole 'where there's smoke there's fire' theory right out of the water. Don'tcha think? Although, my chest does _feel_ like it's on fire. Who would have thought a wound the size of a quarter could hurt so frigging much? And it just keeps getting deeper.

Keep on talking, Bouncy. You'll never get a damn thing out of me.

"I just told you." That had a suspiciously pleading tone to it. My mouth usually over rides my brain. That never really bothered me much before, but I'd do anything to muzzle it right now. Before I say something I'll regret.

"Why protect the one who betrayed you? Abandoned you to this."

"If I knew the name I'd give you the damn name. I don't care about protecting the Tok'ra." I put as much venom and hate into the one word as I can muster. Again, not entirely true, but I'm not really up to splitting hairs right now.

So.

Blah, blah, blah.

Like I care. Good for them.

More talking. He just doesn't get that I don't care.

"Don't!"

Was that a whimper? Did I just _beg_?

_God. It. Hurts._

I can't stop myself. It comes out before I can stop it. "Kanan! That's a name. Kanan."

Damn it!

That son of a bitch took over _my_ body, dragged me out of the Tok'ra base, pissed off one of the most sadistic snake-head bastards I've ever had the displeasure of meeting, then abandoned me to deal with this crap alone.

So why do _I_ feel so God damn guilty? Like I'm the one who betrayed him instead of the other way around?

Aw crap! Not again. Dammit, I told you the damn name, you sadistic shit! "I just told you."

"Yes, you did."

Didn't anyone ever tell you it's not polite to torture aging Air Force Colonels?

Seriously, you can put that down now.

"Ahhh."

We'll, that was . . . surprising. Stuff works fast, it doesn't hurt anymore. Until next time.

No shit I did. I just said I did.

"So you see, the truth is rewarded."

My ass! If he really wanted to 'reward' me, he'd let me go. Yeah, like that'll happen.

Really. "I don't know anything else."

"There may be more of this, Kanan, in your mind than even you know."

No there isn't.

"It'll come to you. In time."

No it won't.

Or, at least I pray it doesn't.

Daniel, help me. Please. You promised you'd be back. Where are you?

Just as the world drops out from behind me, my last thought is 'I'm gonna kill that slimy snake if it's the last thing I do'.

Both of them, even if Kanan _is_ already dead.

_THE END_


	9. Philosophical Crap

Philosophical Crap

By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 7/29/06

CATEGORIES: Ficlet, Friendship, POV, Angst, Missing Scene, Series

CONTENT WARNINGS: Torture, Language

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 1,440

AUTHORS NOTE: This part is a little longer than usual, but the scene called for it in my opinion. Many thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta, Cokie! Thanks also go to Cokie for suggesting the title for this part. It's definitely something Jack would say.

* * *

Ouch. Was it really necessary to turn the room first _then_ drop me like a rag doll? 

Hey, the amazing floating woman is back.

"Is it you?"

Stupid question. 'Course I'm me. Who else would I be?

Oh, you mean, am I him? It?

"You shouldn't have come back."

No shit, Sherlock. It wasn't _my_ idea to come here. Well, your snaky little buddy isn't here now. No, he forced me to come here to save your butt then left me to deal with the consequences of his failure. "I don't remember."

"If I leave with you he will know."

So what. I seriously doubt either of us are leaving here anytime soon, so it's kind of a moot point anyway. "You."

Well, well, well, look who's decided to make an appearance. The anger that flooded through me at that thought leaves as quickly as it came. I'm glad he's here.

"Jack, who are you talking to?"

Duh! "The woman." You know, the one pulling a Houdini.

"There's nobody there."

Look in the mirror. "Look who's talking."

Well, that was a dumb question. Of course it doesn't hurt. You know damn well he keeps sticking me in that damn magic light show box of his. Makes it all go away. All but the memories.

"Told you I'd come back."

Yeah, took your time about though, didn't ya? Left me here to suffer while you went to go do whatever it is you and your glowy friends do when you're not interfering. Which is always. I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to mix with us mere mortals, but how's about you GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!

I can't keep doing this, Daniel. You're supposed to be my best friend. Help me. Please. I'm not above begging, here. Not anymore.

"The hardest part of being who or what I am is having the power to change the things I want to change and knowing that I can't."

Wha . . . huh?

"Even when I'm certain. Even when it's absolutely clear to me. Even when it affects the people I care about."

Oh please, spare me the philosophical crap.

"Because for all I can do, I'm no more qualified to play God then the Goa'uld are."

What do you think you're doing when you sit around and watch people get hurt and murdered by those slimy bastards? People who can't defend themselves?

"Baal will keep this up."

Ya think? He's having much too much fun to stop. I get the distinct feeling that even if I could and did tell him what he wants to know, he'd keep doing what he's been doing to me. Just for the fun of it.

No place else to be? Really? You wouldn't rather be chasing Oma around going on and on about how wise and great she is? Drooling over all she can teach you and all you've learned?

Okay, I'm being a little mean here. At this point, I don't really care. How can you stand there and not do _something_ to help me?

More questions. What difference does it make? He came back. I'm suffering for his, Its, actions. Its choices.

"You know, screw it. It doesn't matter." It does. I know I really shouldn't be taking this out on Daniel, but I can't help it. He's an easy target right now. I lash out at him, because I can't do it to Baal. Not the way I want to.

Okay, the Jonas remark was kind of a low blow.

"There isn't always a way out, Jack."

Really. "Hey, if that was true I would have been dead a long time ago!" And several times over.

Did you have to mention the sarcophagus?

What? You think I'm keeping count? Sorry, stopped doing that after about the sixth time. I don't even want to know anymore.

No kidding. I feel like a piece of me has been ripped away every time that damn lid slides open. Talking isn't going to change that, Daniel. Helping me get out of here will.

Sorry. Not going to happen. I will never _want_ to ascend. The whole floating around on a moral high horse watching people suffer and not doing a damn thing about it just isn't for me my friend.

I really do appreciate the offer, but "This is _me_ we're talking about!"

You really don't want me to do that. You won't like what you see.

Hey, I thought it was a cool name. Sucks they had to blow it up.

Humanity's potential, aye. Guess the Asgard aren't as smart as we thought they were.

"I am not _you_."

Your opinion of me always has been a little too high, Daniel. Better take me off that damn pedestal before it comes crashing down on your head. Not that it would actually hurt you physically. But that's beside the point.

So have the Asgard for that matter. What the hell do either of you know about me? Not diddlysquat, that's what.

"Okay. Put yourself in my shoes and me in yours."

"You'd be here for me."

I wouldn't have let that bastard do have what he's done to me, to you. "Damn straight! I'd 'av busted you out, blown this rat hole to hell, and made sure that son-of-a-bitch suffered!"

"The Other's would have stopped you."

"They'd have a hell of a fight on their hands."

"You wouldn't do that."

Don't know me very well at all do you? I thought you at least knew me a little better than that. "Baal would be dead."

"Jack."

I don't let up. "Don't think I'd stop there."

"You're a better man than that."

"That's were you're wrong!"

I can't be the man you are, Daniel. I never was. I never will be. Even if, by some miracle, I manage to get out of here alive.

Yeah, don't remind me. I was there remember? I asked him to stop. I asked him to let you die. It's not something I like to think about.

"But you, in the place you're at right now, don't have any other choices. This is not your life we're talking about here, this is your _soul_!"

When is he going to realize there is nothing left of my soul worth saving? What tiny, oh so small piece that had been left untouched had died when I told Jacob to stop trying to heal him. That had been the last straw. So much of my soul had died years before that. After all the things I'd seen. All the things I'd _done_. I'd do them again in a heartbeat, most of them anyway, because, as much as I hated doing them, they needed to be done.

Then Charlie died.

You saved my life on Abydos, and a piece of my soul. You made me care about something, someone enough to put aside my grief and anger and pain long enough to help those people. You made me care again. You gave me a reason to fight, to go on. Then you took it back with those simple little words. 'This is what I want.'

"This is it. What I'm offering you is your only way out."

That's what you think. "You're wrong about that too." I look up at him. "I have another choice."

"What are talking about?" Come on, you're the smart one here. Think about it.

He's quiet for a minute then shakes his head. "No."

Please, Daniel. If you really are my friend you won't let them put me in there again. Don't let him keep doing this to me.

"Don't ask me to do that."

I'm not asking. I'm _begging_. Can't you tell the difference?

"I won't do it."

"I'd do it for you and you know it." I really would. In a heartbeat. I never would have let it go this far. If there'd been absolutely, one hundred percent, no way to break you out, I'd have _found_ a way. Or I'd have put a bullet between your eyes. Or whatever I would have had to do to end your suffering. Why won't you do the same for me?

"I _don't_ want to see this cell again, Daniel."

I position myself and look ahead. The room tilts, tall dumb and blond (I really have to think of something else to call them) enter again, and Daniel is gone. This time, I walk out standing tall.

Please, Daniel, whatever you do, don't let me wake up when they put me in the sarcophagus again.

Better yet, don't let them get a chance to put me in again.

_THE END_


	10. If Wishes Were Fishes

**If Wishes Were Fishes**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 7/29/06

SPOILERS: Abyss, minor ones for my fic 'He's Not My Dad' though you don't have to read that to understand this.

CATEGORIES: Ficlet, Missing Scene, Series, Whump

CONTENT WARNINGS: Torture

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 718

AUTHORS NOTE: I have no idea were I heard this or how it ends, but it popped into my head one day when I was working on another part to this series and my muse just ran with it. Many thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta, Cokie!

* * *

I wish my Dad hadn't died in the Korean War when I was a year old. 

I wish I'd have at least gotten a chance to know him.

I wish my Mom had hadn't married that prick, Dean, when I was five.

I wish my dog hadn't died when I was nine.

I wish Grandpa hadn't died that same year. I know he would have loved Sara and Charlie as much as I did, do.

I wish Uncle Colin hadn't ran over my bike when I was twelve. That was the coolest bike I'd ever had.

I wish Grandma hadn't got cancer and died twelve years after Grandpa. I know she would have love Sara and Charlie too.

I wish Mom hadn't died before she really got to know her grandson. Charlie was only two at the time.

I wish I hadn't spent four months in that Iraqi hell hold of a prison. Or spent six months in rehab afterwards.

I wish I would have swallowed my foolish anger at Frank a long time ago.

I wish I had accepted his apology instead of waiting until he was spiraling uncontrollably towards a black hole and _hoping_ he could see in my eyes all the things I wanted to say.

I wish I'd let Charlie play with that stupid water gun.

I really, _really_ wish Charlie hadn't found my gun, and that I hadn't forgot to lock the box.

I wish Daniel hadn't died . . . ascended . . . whatever.

I wish I were at my cabin, sitting on the deck and fishing in my lake that has no pesky fish in it. Yup, just kicking back with a pole in one hand and an ice cold beer in the other.

If wishes were fishes and lived in the sea . . .

Now where did that thought come from?

Something my Mom used to say to me when I was a kid. A nursery rhyme or something. I never could remember the rest of it. Still can't. I don't know what made me think of her either. Man, I miss her.

It doesn't make sense to me. Never did, but it sure as hell beats thinking about the acid that's slowly burning through my tender flesh towards my heart. Once again, Baal's aim is deadly. He hit the same spot as the first time.

Crap! A second drop hits the back of my hand. Not as painful as the first drop, but it still hurts like hell.

He isn't asking questions this time. He just releases a little acid and watches. His lips twisting into a sadistic grin of pleasure with every moan, groan, that escapes me. I think he's waiting for the screams. Hate to disappoint you, Bouncy Bocce Ball (well not really), but it ain't happening.

At least not yet.

A third drop comes at me.

_Jesus_. Oh _God_! Shit, shit, shit, that _hurt_!

That's hitting below the belt.

Literally.

Pretty close to screaming here.

Crap. Good thing I don't plan on having any more kids. Peeing could be a big problem too. Then again, he'll just throw me back in that damn box and it'll all go away. Until next time.

Another drop hits me, this time in the neck. Okay, that warrants a loud gasp at least. "Ahhhh."

This guy brings a whole new meaning to the words sadistic bastard.

It's getting hard to breathe.

I'd like to tell him in no uncertain terms, using every filthy word I know, in every language I know, just what I think of the snake. But my vocal cords aren't working any more. I can't even groan.

The look on his face is pure, malevolent, _evil_. This session is strictly for fun.

Oh GOD! The fourth drop hits my eye. I want to scream. Loud and long. It burns through my eyelid as if it isn't even there. It makes short work of my eyeball as well.

Daniel, where are you. Are you here now? How can you just stand by and let him do this to me? How can you watch him slowly destroy me?

It's funny really, the thoughts that pop into your head when you're dying. My last thought as my life slips away from me is that stupid damn rhyme.

If wishes were fishes and lived in the sea . . .

_THE END_


	11. Going Looney Tunes

**Going Looney Tunes**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 8/2/06

CATEGORIES: Ficlet, POV, Angst, Missing Scene, Series, Torture

CONTENT WARNINGS: Torture, Language

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 971

AUTHORS NOTE: Many thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta, Cokie!

* * *

They don't even bring me back to me cell this time. No rest for the weary, I guess. It's right back to that damn room and its metallic spider web. 

And one sadistic snakehead with a penchant for torturing people who don't know squat, for answers they don't have.

He's back to the questions though. "What did you want with my slave? Did you think she would betray me? Reveal my secrets to the Tok'ra?"

If you only knew, she already spilled the beans. Just goes to show, you can't find good help these days. "I don't know. What part of 'I've never been here before' are you having trouble comprehending?"

He picks up a knife and releases it. It embeds itself deep into my shoulder. Crap! I guess it hurts more the . . . whatever time a round this is. The sarcophagus healed the physical wounds, but the body remembers. Boy, does it remember. This is only the first knife and it hurts so bad I'm ready to tell him my deepest, darkest secrets to make the pain stop. But I know I can't tell him what he wants. I can't let him hurt that girl. Kanan used then abandoned her. None of this is her fault.

Besides, while I remember more than I'm letting on, it still isn't much. Even if I did tell him what little I _do_ know, he wouldn't believe me.

Did I ever mention how much I really, really _hate_ snakes?

"The Tok'ra left you, but you will have retained his memories. Tell me why you returned. Why you tried to steal my slave." He pauses a moment then adds, "Answer me, Tok'ra! Your suffering will not end until you have answered all my questions."

I think he's getting pissed. I get the impression he's used to getting answers to all his questions by the time it gets this far. And with a lot less . . . persuasion.

Tough.

"Bite me." Probably shouldn't have said that. Don't want to give the snake any more ideas.

"Do not push me."

I groan, loudly, as the second knife strikes my chest. Holy shit, God damn it! Son-of-a-bitch! This guy really _loves_ those knives. He's added a very unpleasant surprise. That knife is frigging _hot_! Stab and burn, two for one.

"Why do you make this so hard on yourself? You claim to have no allegiance to the Tok'ra. Why will you not tell me what I want to know and end your suffering?"

"Why don't you take a long walk off a short pier?" I doubt he knows exactly what that means. From the look on his face, he gets the general idea. He's certainly picked up on the sarcasm. He picks up another knife. Man, I hope this one isn't heated.

SHIT! It is. I hiss and bite back the scream that's trying to escape me.

He's silent for a few minutes, listening to, and getting great pleasure in my soft groans. I hate even giving him that much satisfaction, but I can't stop it.

"Why did you come here?"

"To see the wizard of course."

Hmmm, guess he's never seen the Wizard of Oz. I can't help but laugh at the look on his face. If I only had a camera. I don't think I've even seen that look on the face of a Goa'uld before.

I guess he's tired of the knives; he picks up the acid bottle this time. _That_ is not funny. I stop giggling.

"Why have you come here?"

"Eat my shorts, man."

An almost humorous look crosses his face. Then he twists the acid bottle in his hands, taunting me. After a moment that seems to last hours, he lets a drop fly.

I can't stop the scream this time as the drop hits my right cheek. He smiles that twisted, scary, smile and I cringe. Probably visible so, but I'm quickly passing the point of caring. He releases a second drop of that godforsaken acid.

FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! He's bound and determined to hear me singing soprano. Hate to disappoint you Bally Boy, but I couldn't sing if my life depended on it. Even if it didn't hurt so badly. Right now, all I can do is scream. Loud and long, until my throat is raw. He just stands there and smiles. Getting his jollies from causing me excruciating pain.

My screaming is finally reduced to barely whispered moans.

He isn't done yet.

"You will tell me what I want to know."

What an arrogant bastard. "He don't know me very well do he?" I say, not necessarily to him.

I must be loosing it; I'm quoting a damn cartoon rabbit. I didn't actually mean to say that out loud. "Ohhh, you wascally wabbit!"

Elmer Fudd? What, am I channeling Warner Brothers now?

I think I said that out loud as well.

All we need now is a Daffy Duck phrase.

He raises the bottle again.

"You're despicable!"

And there it is! It's official. I've lost my marbles. What few I had to start with.

Of course, he doesn't get the references.

He hits me below the belt again and my voice might hit Mickey Mouse pitch. I can't stop the chuckle that escapes my lips at that thought.

Apparently, he agrees with me on the 'loosing it' part. I almost certain I didn't say that aloud. He twists the bottle slowly then sets it on the table.

"It is time for the sarcophagus. This is far from over, O'Neill."

Give the snake a gold star! He actually used my name.

He hits the big button again and I'm free falling towards the sarcophagus again.

I miss. Again.

This time my head smashes into the hard box. I can feel the blood pooling under my head as the world fades to black.

_THE END_


	12. Just For Fun

**Just For Fun**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 8/3/06

CATEGORIES: Ficlet, POV, Angst, Missing Scene, Series Torture

CONTENT WARNINGS: Violence

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 1,122

AUTHORS NOTE:

* * *

Another _lovely_ round in the sarcophagus, and I'm 'escorted' back to my cell. 

I would pace, but I'm to damn tired. Not the 'gee I'm really sleepy' kind of tired. The 'when is this living hell going to end' bone deep weary kind of tired. All I can do is sit with my back against the wall and let my mind drift. Try not to think about what Baal has done to me, or what he will do. I really don't want to focus on the fact that I'm terrified Daniel won't be back, even though he promised he would. Afraid of what I'll say if he does come back.

Besides, this cell is a bit small for pacing.

I wonder if Baal found another play toy? Not that I complaining, but it's been a while since the blond duo has come to collect me.

Dang! I _know_ I didn't say that out loud. I hear them clomping down the hall and lay on the floor before they can twist the room and drop me on my face.

I surprised when we enter the web room and Mister King-of-the-sadists isn't there.

Slightly Taller Blond Baboon must be reading my mind. "Our master is attending other matters. He has turned you over to us until his return. A reward for our loyalty and service to our god."

This isn't going to be fun either.

Nope, not one bit.

I can tell from the looks on their faces this will be a 'just for "fun"' session. There will be no questions asked.

Slightly Shorter Blond Baboon swings his fist suddenly. My reflexes and instincts, for the zillionth time, save my ass and I easily sidestep his swinging fist. I grab his arm, twist hard, and shove him into his buddy. Off balance, they crash to the floor in an undignified heap. Seizing the opportunity, I bolt from the room. Sorry guys, not today. Not if I can help it.

I don't get far. Two more Jaffa round a corner and I come to a skidding halt.

I don't know why Baal's Jaffa, at least the ones at this base, don't wear armour, but it works to my advantage.

I lash out and my foot connects with a brown haired Jaffa's gut with a satisfying thud. He gasps and stumbles into the other guy and I try to take off again.

Unfortunately, the blond duo has recovered. I manage to kick one of them in the gut, but the other one connects a painful kick to my already shaky right knee. It gives and I stumble. The original two each grab an arm and drag me, kicking and thrashing, back into that damn room.

The two I encountered in the hall follow. It's obvious they want in on the actions. The blond duo aren't having it though. I struggle against my captors, but they tighten their grips. The two from the hallway leave reluctantly, and it's just me and the blond baboons again.

One lets me go as the other shoves me. I stumble backwards a few steps and am pulled against the web again. I wince as I slam into it. They laugh loudly.

I got it. I'll go with good old Doctor Seuss. Thing One and Thing Two is what I'll call them now.

Crap! Thing Two has a zat.

I know I said this before but . . . THAT FRIGGING _HURTS!_

A few minutes later the pain has started to subside but I'm still gasping for breath and my muscles spasm. Slowly, my breathing returns to normal and the spasms stop.

They must have timed how long they have to wait before they can zat someone again without killing them because, sure enough, Thing Two zats me again and I'm really _really_ wishing I could just die. And stay dead.

Another eternity passes and, once again, I'm gasping for breath and my muscles spasm so bad it feels like they're pulling themselves right off my bones.

You know, this is really not as much fun as it looks. Honestly.

Apparently, it is to them.

This time it's Thing One who raises a zat.

I don't know how much more of this I can take. My brain is on fire and my muscles feel like jell-o. Each time it takes longer for my breath to come back and for the spasms to ease.

One of them hits something on the table and I'm dropped, painfully, onto my side. I try to move, but nothing is cooperating right now. Things One and Two walk towards me with menacing glares.

Well, I think they're meant to be menacing. They just don't stack up to their master. Now that guy does menacing _very_ well.

They jerk me to my feet. I wait for the inevitable gloating and the 'You will tell us what your god demands!' but it doesn't come.

The fists do. I see them coming and try to raise my arms to defend myself, but they still aren't working. The first fist connects squarely with my cheek.

I've been hit harder, but that still hurt. A lot. Thing Two grabs me as I stumble. He pins my arms behind my back as Thing One continues to pummel me. Fists connect with my face unmercifully until I feel my skin split. Above my left eye, my right cheek and my chin. Several teeth have also come loose. I gag on blood and spit. Three teeth join blood in a small puddle on the ground.

I guess Thing One is tired. He stops punching me. Thing Two releases me and I drop to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Which certainly doesn't help the pounding in my head.

Thing One grabs me by the scruff of my collar and hauls me to my feet. Thing Two takes over the beating. I guess he's decided my face is bloody enough because he starts in on my chest and abdomen. Pounding his fists hard and fast, using my body as a punching bag until it takes all my energy just to take scattered, ragged, _painful_ breaths.

Thing One releases me and I drop to the ground again, grateful it's finally over.

Only it's not.

The feet are flying now.

I must have blacked out. I don't remember anything after the first few feet connected. Now I'm being dragged through a long hallway. Like there's any other kind around here.

I don't need to ask where we're going, even if I could speak.

Come on fellas what d'ya say? Let's just forget the glowing 'make 'em all better' box for once and you can just drop me in my cell. Or by the Stargate, maybe?

No?

Didn't think so.

_THE END_


	13. The Art of Torture

**The Art of Torture**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 8/9/06

CATEGORIES: Angst, Ficlet, Missing Scene, POV, Series, Torture

CONTENT WARNINGS: Torture, Language

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 929

AUTHORS NOTE: As always, many thanks to my beta, Cokie.

* * *

The sarcophagus lid slides open and Thing One and Thing Two are waiting for me again. 

This scene is so far past old it's approaching Ancient.

The Ancients suck.

Daniel says I'm an ancient. Or something like that.

Daniel is an Ancient now. I think.

Okay, really don't want to follow _that_ train of thought right now. Or ever.

Thing One and Thing Two don't even take me back to the cell this time. I don't let them drag me though, as we go down the hall to Baal's torture room. I'm a bit surprised I haven't tried busting loose again.

I'll bet the arrogant bastard's waiting for me with his 'tremble before your god' superiority complex.

Yup. There he is. I know I'll regret this, but I spit in his face as I pass him. I'm running short on defiance, but I'm not out yet.

To his credit, there is no indignant outburst. No bellow of rage. No lashing out with feet or fists. But then he doesn't need to do that. Does he? He knows he's in control. He holds my life in his hands and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.

Thing One and Thing Two release me and before I can even think of reaching for one of them, the web sucks me to it again.

"What did you want with the female?"

I know there's _so_ many things I could say to that. Nothing comes to mind. Apparently, I'm running short on sarcasm too.

Wait a minute. "You don't know? I thought you said you're a god? Aren't you fellas supposed to be all knowing? But then, you guys wouldn't know the truth if it jumped up and bit you in the ass."

Ha! Gotcha on that one, didn't I?

Ouch! Point taken. Literally. Don't expose the fake.

The knife whizzes past my right cheek, cutting a deep line in my face before it goes through the webbing. Compared to what he's been doing, it barely stings. I know this is just beginning. As I said before, Baal has torture down to an art form.

And I'm his canvas. His clay. The knives and zats and acid are his bushes and pencils. His tools.

He really is enjoying this entirely too much.

"What did you want with my slave?"

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about."

Another knife flies past, this one dangerously close to my eye. I can feel the slight breeze, the pull of skin as it cuts through the flesh.

I barely even flinch.

He looks a bit miffed. I think he's waiting for the screaming to start. Must be disappointed that I haven't even moaned. Yet.

Damn. Here comes the acid bottle. I was _so_ hoping he'd forgotten about it. Or lost it. Or even just ran out. I don't have that kind of luck. The drop hits me in the chest. The same damn spot it hits every time.

"Crap." It's barely a gasp, but I can tell from the entirely to pleased with himself look, that he heard it.

Can't have him thinking he's in control of the situation here. Yes, I know he _is_ in control. But that's beside the point. Time for a diversionary tactic.

"You should play for the Cubbies."

I almost laugh at the look on his face. Almost. "No, seriously, with your aim you should pitch for the Cubs. Maybe they'd actually win a few."

You know, it really is hilarious to see a snakehead look so puzzled. It'd be funnier if this didn't hurt so badly. And if I wasn't stuck like a fly in a web. And if I didn't know what was coming.

He releases another drop.

"Gaaa!" For crying out loud! Give it a rest already would ya?

And another. This one burns into my lungs.

The pain just keeps getting worse, but I know he's not done yet.

He knows just how far to push without delivering the final blow. Not until he's damn well ready to anyway.

"Daniel." Is it just me, or am I whimpering now.

Bouncy looks amused.

What I wouldn't give to have this situation reversed. See how damn much he'd smile with the knives and acid flying at him.

At least he's decided to skip the zat this time around. It's a small consolation, but I'll take it.

He's back to the knives. He holds on to this one. That whole 'anticipation of pain' thing again. He's a master of mental torture as well.

He puts it down and glares at me. I glare back. Well' I try to. Kinda hard to look menacing when the slightest movement makes you want to scream.

He picks up the knife again. He holds it in his hand, caressing it. I blink and he releases it. It embeds itself deep into my chest and I gasp in pain.

Daniel. I'm not angry. Honest.

Come on; let's kick a little Goa'uld ass together. For old time's sake.

All right, I lied. I am angry. No, _pissed_! Why won't you help me, God damn you! End this! I thought you were my friend. What kind of friend allows this to happen when he has the power to stop it?

Help me.

Please.

Baal releases one last knife.

"Please."

The barely whispered word slips through my lips. I look into Baal's face. His malicious grin is the last thing I see as I slip into oblivion.

_THE END_


	14. A Losing Battle

**A Losing Battle**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 8/5/06

CATEGORIES: Angst, Ficlet, Missing Scene, POV, Series, Torture

CONTENT WARNINGS: Torture, Language

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 834

AUTHORS NOTE: Many thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta, Cokie!

* * *

She's back again. 

Talk about in your face. If she were any closer we'd be kissing.

"Is it you?"

No, it's the tooth fairy. Got any loose teeth? Doesn't matter. I doubt you have a pillow anyway.

"You shouldn't be here."

Then again, neither should I.

"You look so different. How can you be Kanan?"

You know, Baal isn't the only one with a thick head. "I'm not."

"If I leave with you he will know."

So. Take a chance.

"He used both of us."

Hey! Where'd she go?

"He did use both of us."

Where'd he come from? Funny, I don't remember coming back here.

He didn't see her either.

She's not real. Every time I see and hear her, it's all in my mind. That's . . . weird. Never considered myself to be the type that sees things, but no one else can see her so she must be in my head. Right?

Well, I mean, I know she's _real_ . . . somewhere. I'm just not really seeing her when I think I see her. I think.

How about you ask me some new questions this time? Mix it up a bit? Or how about something else entirely? Like the weather. Or why you chose a crappy, muddy planet for your little secret base? Or how long you think you can keep said base a secret? I don't think I want to know how you do that thing with the cell or this web. Techno babble confuses me. Just ask Carter.

On second thought, stay away from her. Stay away from everyone on my team. Matter of fact, stay the hell away from my _planet_.

"How long where you a host to this Kanan before he convinced you to come here? Days, or merely hours."

That's not a new question. You just reworded it. "I don't remember."

"What did this Kanan share about his previous mission here?"

"Nothing." Again, same question. Same answer. There was no sharing. The slimy bastard hijacked my body and dragged my ass out here without uttering a word as to why. Do you even realize how much you sound like a broken record?

"What did he want with my slave?"

"I don't know."

It's not a lie, really. Closer to a half-truth I'd say. I do have a vague idea and, oddly enough considering everything else is getting fuzzier, the 'picture' is getting clearer.

"Why did he return?"

"I _don't_ know!" At this point, I really don't even care anymore.

"I believe you."

Good! How's about letting me go then? Or at least let me die and _stay_ dead? That's not too much to ask now is it?

"You're a victim of this Tok'ra just as I am."

Ha! _You_ aren't a victim of anyone. More like victimizer.

"This Kanan took over the host body, your body, just as I or any other Goa'uld would have done."

No, really?

"He used you to come here."

That's what I've been saying all along.

"But to what purpose?"

Not telling. So there.

"I believe the answers are there in your mind. Even if you were host for a mere matter of hours, something of him would be left behind."

Nope. Got nothing.

Crap. That smile again.

"An unfortunate inheritance for you."

He's opening the lid. Double crap.

"Because I will find them. If I have to . . . dig them out."

I vote for not digging.

Crap! Okay, okay, I get it. I don't get a vote.

Hate to be a nag here, but that's stabbing, not digging. And it _hurts_. A lot.

Fuck! I get the point. Literally. Okay? You can stop now. Really. You can put that down, shutting up now.

God! "Stop." Crap. I'm whimpering again.

I don't care. I just want it to stop. At this point, I'd kneel on the ground and lick his damn boots if I thought there was even a _chance_ he'd stop this. The military and their 'never say die' crap can go straight to hell. I'll meet them there.

I'm running out of fight. The sarcophagus is killing _me_ just as surely as Baal keeps killing my body.

I haven't told him anything other than Kanan's name yet, but my resolve is fading fast. I'm fighting a loosing battle here and I can feel the end nearing. I can't keep this up much longer. I don't even bother with the sarcastic remarks out loud anymore. I don't care about antagonizing the bastard.

Shit! That's gonna leave a mark. Nothing like a bull's-eye on your forehead.

Not really, but . . .

My throat is sore from screaming now. I don't even try to stop that anymore. He lets loose with a knife or a drop of acid, I let go with a loud groan or, depending on the location, an ear splitting scream.

I just don't care. If that's how he gets his jollies, good for him.

The acid finally makes its way to my brain. There's a brief, intense burst of pain then it's lights out again.

_THE END_


	15. Losing Faith

**Losing Faith**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 8/9/06

CATEGORIES: Ficlet, POV, Angst, Missing Scene, Series

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 712

AUTHORS NOTE: There is a _very_ tiny spoiler for a season 5 episode. Can you spot it? Thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta, Cokie!

* * *

Again, the first thing I see is a blinding white light. 

Another walk down the same corridors.

Another slide down the floor/wall and I'm back in the cell. I walk carefully to the other side and look up. They're gone. So is the woman, Shallan. I finally remember her name. I can't tell Baal that, but I'm scared to death that I will.

I touch the wall with my fists then my head, still for just a moment. Then I turn and slide down until I'm sitting on the floor. It was so tempting to slam my head in to the wall, to bash my brains out until I lose consciousness and die. But what good would that do? I know it won't be long before they come back. They'd just scoop me up, along with my brain matter, and throw me back in that life-draining box. They won't let me stay dead long enough for it to be permanent.

Yeah, yeah, I know. It brings you back to life. But it also drains your life from you each time you go in it because it kills a piece of who you are and keeps doing it until there's nothing left.

You said it yourself, Daniel.

"It can regenerate you body, make you strong enough to go through that all over again, but all that time it's destroying who you are."

You said you wouldn't let that happen. I'm sorry. I can't do the glowing thing. You know that.

You said you'd be back. You _promised_.

When they said promises were made to be broken, I don't think this is _quite_ what they had in mind.

Where the hell are you, Daniel?

You said you couldn't just sit by and watch him torture me. I never dreamed that meant you'd take off and leave me alone.

You said you wouldn't let him destroy me. Well, he's doing a damn good job of it.

Hell, sick as the thought of actually doing it makes me, I'm very close to the point where I'll get in front of a camera and proclaim to every world there is that Bocce is, in fact, a god if it would end this eternal suffering.

Come on Jonas. Put that 'Frasier says I'm so much smarter than you' brain of yours to work. Between you and Carter, you're smarter than just about everybody else on that damn base put together.

And you, T, you were in the service of Apophis for a long time, buddy. You have to have _some_ idea of how to get me the hell out of this place.

I'm losing faith here people. I didn't have much of a soul left before Kanan dragged me here. How much more do you think I can lose and still be me?

I won't be the only one he destroys, Daniel. I'm close to the edge. I can _feel_ it. When I go, she goes with me because I'll spill. God, I don't want to. Just the thought of it makes me sick, but I'm only human for crying out loud! I am not a god damn machine!

You know it's bad when my four months in Iraq are starting to look like a pleasant little stay in nice little resort.

I haven't slept at all the whole time I've been here.

I don't even close my eyes anymore. Every time I do I see acid and knives and a malevolent smile on the face of a monster hiding in some poor schmucks head.

Last time I saw it, it was her on the receiving end. That was the last time I shut my eyes.

I can't even tell if that was days ago or just a few hours. Could have been twenty minutes ago for all I know anymore. I don't even know how long I've been here.

I'm not sure I _want_ to know.

Pretty soon, I won't care.

About anything.

Don't let this happen. You can stop this, Daniel.

End this. Not just for me, but for the innocent woman who will suffer for that son-a-bitch Kanan's actions.

I hear the heavy clomping of boots again and get into position.

Last chance.

You know, Daniel, I'm not the only one who's a stupid son-a-bitch.

_THE END_


	16. Never Ending Hell

**Never Ending Hell**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 8/9/06

CATEGORIES: Ficlet, POV, Angst, Missing Scene, Series Torture

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 380

AUTHORS NOTE: Many thanks, as always, to my beta, Cokie!

* * *

"What was its name?" 

I've already told you. "Kanan." I don't care enough to antagonize him anymore. I ran out of blatant sarcasm a while ago. Why drag it out? What difference does it make?

"Then, you remember his name."

Got a talent for stating the obvious, I see.

"What was his mission?"

"No mission."

Okay, that is a lie. Sort of. I remember now. Her name is Shallan and he came back for her because he has the hots for her. Felt bad for leaving her. Should have thought about that _before_ he used and abandoned her. 'Course, it was a personal mission not a Tok'ra high council approved one.

"Was it to steal the slave from me?"

"I don't know."

Again, a lie, but I don't care.

"Did Kanan believe a slave could know my secrets?"

I don't give a rat's ass what Kanan believed.

"There's something else you are hiding from me. I sense it. I _feel_ it."

Of course there is.

"When are you going to end this?" My voice sounds dead, even to my ears.

"If you tell me what I wish to know, I will end this." I think he's moved past aggravated. He actually raised his voice.

If mister card carrying member of the 'high and mighty were to good to mingle with you common folks' glowy club doesn't end this _real_ soon. You'll get your wish.

"Daniel." I've always been there when you needed me. Why aren't you here? If you are here, how can you just sit there and watch this?

"Your mind is beginning to fail."

Gee, I wonder why? Maybe it's the whole 'torturing then killing then sticking me in your funky box more times than I care to remember' thing? Ya think?

"It's time for the sarcophagus."

Uhhh, that's what causing the whole failing mind thing in the first place. Remember?

"But as you regain the strength to return here, consider this. It will be far worse next time."

Gee, thanks for the warning. I think I'll take a rain check if you don't mind.

"Daniel." It's just a whisper, but I know Baal heard me.

He waits a few minutes then gets up and hits the button.

Guess that's a 'no' on the rain check.

_THE END_


	17. The Last Straw

**The Last Straw**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 8/24/06

CATEGORIES: Angst, Ficlet, Missing Scene, POV, Torture

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 850

AUTHORS NOTE: Many thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta reader, Cokie!

* * *

Once again, they skip taking me back to my cell; it's straight from that damn box to this god-forsaken room. 

"What did Kanan want with my slave?"

And right to the questions again.

Ya know. Screw it. I'm not saying a damn word any more. I tried the whole 'truth' thing and the 'sarcastic' thing. Hell, I even tried the whole 'tell a lie with enough facts to be plausible' thing. He doesn't believe a word I say anyway.

He glares at me for a minute then picks up a knife.

Here we go again.  
Same old shit again.  
Marching down the avenue.  
One more day and we'll be through.  
I'll be glad and so will you.

My mind _must_ be slipping. I haven't recited that old chant in a _long_ time. Like since the beginning of my Special Ops days. God, I wish it were true. There is no way in hell this son-of-a-bitch will _ever_ let me go.

"Ahhh." Shit! That hurt. He really loves those knives.

No, seriously, I think it's an obsession. It's unhealthy. For me, anyway. Guess his Mom never taught him about not playing with not playing with knives.

"Why did Kanan come back here? Was it just for the female?"

Still not talking.

Crap! God damn that frigging _hurts_!

The second knife buries itself to the hilt in my gut.

Double crap. I think I'm gonna hurl. I hope not. I really don't relish the thought of puking my guts out all over my shirt. The sarcophagus heals the body. It does nothing for odors.

Speaking of odors, I could really use a nice, long, _hot_ shower. God, I reek.

Uh oh. He's talking again. Sorry, mind wandered a bit. Didn't catch that last question. Care to repeat it?

Guess not.

_Mother fucking son of a goddamn whore bitch!_ Two drops of acid, released almost simultaneously, burn into the tender flesh of my cheeks.

Damn it, Daniel, fucking _do something_. I can't do this anymore. Please, please don't let me be responsible for what this sadistic bastard is going to do to that woman when I crack. It won't be long now.

"What secrets did Kanan learn while he was here?"

Damn. I bet I missed the Simpsons again. That bites. Bastard, I missed that History channel special on the Korean War too.

He releases a third knife and it's suddenly very hard to breathe. A blade in the lung will do that to ya. A fourth knife makes breathing damn near impossible.

"Why do you insist on trying my patience? You must know this will get you nowhere. You will break."

No shit, Dick Tracy. Eventually, not just yet. No one could take this forever. Why should I make this easy for you?

A fifth knife is released. Damn it all to hell. I have a sneaking suspicion those are tears in my eyes. No! I will _not_ let that bastard see me cry. I _refuse_! I haven't cried since my dog, Demon, died.

I know, not the best name for a dog, but I was three when I got her. Besides, what else do you call a dog with red eyes? The vet said it was some sort of genetic abnormality or burst blood vessels or something. Mom thought it was freaky and somewhat frightening. I thought it was awesome.

Dean hated her at first sight. The feeling was mutual. He got so mad that Mom wouldn't make me get rid of her.

I think he asked another question. I couldn't give a rat's ass.

How many of those freaking knives does he have? I liked it better when the third one was the killer.

Another, large, drop of acid is released and I scream. Loud. Until my voice gives out on me.

He just sits there in his goofy looking chair with that damn spooky grin. I don't have much time now. My vision is getting dark and fuzzy around the edges.

He wasn't kidding when he said this time would be far worse. I hurt so badly. I know that next time, I'll be spilling my guts like a damn crook edging for a deal with a DA. This was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. The only reason I'm not spilling my guts now is that would require use of my vocal cords. Which I don't have anymore. The acid burned them out.

"It is time for the sarcophagus."

God, I hate that grin.

I wait for the nauseating free fall and sudden, bone-crunching stop, but they don't come. Guess he changed his mind.

Damn.

This time there is no quick end. He pushes a button and I drop to the floor. Which, of course, forces the knives in deeper. I can't even groan.

He walks over and crouches down beside me. Then, one by one, he pulls the knives out and watches as my blood flows freely from each deep wound. I can do nothing but gasp like a fish out of water as I bleed to death.

I _really_ hate that fucking snake.

_THE END_


	18. A Fighting Chance

**A Fighting Chance**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 8/24/06

CATEGORIES: Angst, Ficlet, Missing Scene, POV, Torture

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 846

AUTHORS NOTE: We're getting close to the end here folks. I promise! Many thanks, as always, to my beta reader, Cokie!

* * *

I don't have to see him to know he's here. 

I turn my head, just to make sure I'm not imagining things, and, sure enough, there he is.

Well it's about frigging time.

"Daniel."

"I'm here."

Yeah, figured that out all on my own. There are rare occasions when I do actually use my head for more than just a hat rack.

"You were gone." The dark, hurting part of me says I should be surprised. And pissed. But I'm not. I'm not sure what I feel right now to tell you the truth. Empty, would be the best way to put it, I guess. Drained. Like there's nothing left of what made me, me.

"I know. I'm sorry. There was something I had to do."

You know. You're sorry. That's all you have to say? What could possibly be so important that you left me here alone to deal with this crap?

"But, I'm back now and I promise I'll stay with you until this is over."

Too little, too late.

"It'll never be over." Can't you see that? He's never going to let me stay dead. Not until I tell him what he wants to know. Most likely, not even then. He sure as _hell_ ain't ever going to let me go alive.

"Yes, it will."

I thought five years of working with me and dealing with the crap we have, had, to deal with ran that naivety out of you. Mostly. Guess not.

"Daniel, you have to end this."

I'm quickly losing the little sliver of me that is left. I can't do it anymore. It hurts, Daniel. It hurts so bad.

"Jack, you just have to hang in there a little bit longer."

I _can't_! "No. I can't go back in there. If I go back, I swear to god . . ." I pause. Shit! I feel like such a low life fucking _shit_, but I can't help it. I just can't go back in that room again. "I'll give Baal what he wants. I'll tell him."

"What?"

"That he loved her."

"Kanan?"

No. King Tut. Of course, Kanan.

"He came back for her. He wanted to save her." My voice falters a little. Don't let me do this. Don't make me destroy whatever shred of my soul might be left and turn her over to that sadistic shit. Don't let him destroy her like he has me.

"Baal doesn't know this."

Not a clue. Well, maybe a clue. "If Baal finds out, he'll do to her what he's doing to me." Don't let it happen. Please. "Daniel, if you don't end this, I'll tell him." This isn't an idle threat to get you to do what I'm asking. Much as I'm disgusted with myself for even _thinking_ it, I will do it.

"You won't have to. It's almost over, Jack."

Really, could have fooled me. Seems like he's just getting warmed up.

"How?" Not that I'm at all skeptical, but you refuse to do anything and you even said it, no one else knows were I am.

"You were right."

What? Someone pinch me, I must be dreaming. Either that, or I have completely lost my mind and this is a delusion.

"There's always a way out."

Yeah, that's what I used to think. Now, I'm not so sure. But I'll bite. What have I got to lose?

"Well, at least there's always a chance."

Way to bust my bubble.

"Your journey isn't over, Jack. Not yet."

Okay, maybe you _have_ been up to something. You obviously know something I don't. "Whatd'ya do?"

"I didn't do anything. It was Sam and Teal'c and uh Jonas too."

"What?" I thought you said no one knows where I am.

"They thought of something."

I get to my feet quickly. "What?" Daniel, please, tell me I'm not delusional.

There's a loud bang and the lights flicker.

Yes! I knew it. I don't know how they did it, and I don't really care, but they found me. Took 'em long enough. But, hey, beggars can't be choosers. I'm going home. One way or another, I'm getting the hell out of here.

The noise continues. It sounds like thunder.

"This is it. All you ever wanted was a fighting chance. Jack. Now you have it. If anyone can make it out of here, you can."

"Lord Yu attacks."

Daniel's gone.

So that's how they did it. Baal must have really pissed off the System Lords if Yu is attacking this place. Guess they don't like the fact that he's not playing nice and sharing his new toys with them.

Don't know. Don't care. I've got a chance, slim as it is, to get the hell out of Dodge, as the saying goes, and I'm taking it.

The room starts to tilt. "Daniel."

No answer. I know he hasn't left me though, 'cause even though I sure as hell can't see him, I can _feel_ his presence. He won't break his promise.

I get my footing quickly and leave the room as fast as I can.

_THE END_


	19. The Great Escape

**The Great Escape**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 9/10/06

CATEGORIES: Angst, Missing Scene, POV, Series

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 1326

AUTHORS NOTE: Many thanks, as always, to my beta reader, Cokie!

* * *

I make my way cautiously down the hall. Anxious as I am to get the hell out of here, I really don't want to run into a contingent of Jaffa. 

No sooner does the thought enter my mind, who should come around the corner but Thing One. I felt a blinding rage I haven't felt in a very long time. Before I even realize it, I've got him pinned on the ground and I'm beating the crap out of him. Good as it feels, I can't keep it up. Reluctantly, I stop after a minute. I'd like nothing more than to finish beating him to a bloody pulp, but I really need to get the hell out of Dodge. I pick up his zat and take off again.

I need to find Shallan quickly. Apparently Kanan left behind more than I thought (or care to admit) because I suddenly know which way to go. I make my way through the corridors as quickly as possible. I find the Shallan in no time.

She almost seems frightened of me, or what I'm here to do, and backs slowly away shaking her head.

"Come with me."

"No. He'll stop us."

Like hell he will! Not this time. He's too busy trying to save his own smarmy ass. I grab her arm and yank to make sure she gets my point. "Come." Unlike the snake, _I_ won't leave her behind.

The 'thunder' gets louder and the structure shakes as we make our way through the seemingly never-ending corridors. Just when I think we'll make a clean break, three Jaffa round the corner. Luckily, I see them first. A few quick shots and they're all down for the count. Three more, and none of them will be getting up again.

A few more minutes and we stumble out of the trembling structure. I glance up at the sky full of gliders. And one honkin' huge mother ship. Never thought I'd be happy to see one of those.

Go Yu! I smirk and allow myself a moment to watch as Baal's palace shakes once more then begins to collapse.

The sound of angry Jaffa shouts shakes me from my reverie and I take off in a full out run. At least Shallan isn't resisting anymore.

I don't slow down until we reach the DHD. I start dialing without thinking. I catch myself after hitting the first symbol. No GDO. I _really_ don't feel like becoming a permanent part of the iris. Luckily, the first symbol for Earth is the same as the Alpha site. A staff blast strikes mere inches from my foot and I dial as quickly as I can. We race towards the gate

We exit the gate at the same time and trip over each other landing in an undignified heap on the ground. Security surrounds us, MP5's stuck in our faces. A familiar voice calls out telling them to back up. I look up into the grinning face of Major Joseph Shultz. "Welcome back, Colonel O'Neill."

I give him a small smile and shakily get to my feet then extend a hand to Shallan. She smiles broadly and accepts my out stretched hand.

Once standing, we are approached by four men and a woman. I stiffen at the deep rumble of the symbiote's voice as the woman speaks to Shallan. "I am Kinna if the Tok'ra. I am pleased to see you have escaped unharmed. Kanan has told us much about you and how you aided him."

"Told ya all about how he used then abandoned her did he? Or did he leave those parts out?" I growl.

The woman returns my glare. She opens her mouth to respond, but one of the men steps forward and speaks first. "The Tok'ra are truly sorry for what has been done to you Colonel O'Neill. It was unjust of Kanan to do what he did."

He seems sincere and I'm sure he means it, but I seriously doubt the others do. At this point, I really couldn't care less. "Yeah, sure, whatever." I growl. I can feel my strength draining quickly. I just want to go home. I am _so_ not in the mood to deal with the Tok'ra and their posturing.

I look at the woman; she's not ready to drop this. A harsh look from the Tok'ra who'd apologized silenced whatever the female was going to say. He turns to Shallan. "You are welcome to come with us."

"So you can use her some more? I don't _think_ so." I stand in front of Shallan defensively. "Haven't you people done enough?"

"We do not take kindly to accusations such as those." It's the woman again.

"_I_ don't take kindly to being kidnapped and abandoned then left to deal with the consequences of someone else's fuck up." I take a step towards her.

Shallan steps out from behind me and takes my hand firmly in hers. "Stop this." She says firmly. We all look at her. "I will go with them."

I stare at her dumfounded. "What?"

The Tok'ra bitch is smirking, looking like the cat that ate the canary. Shallan has no idea what she's getting herself into.

"You really don't want to do that."

"I am sorry you had to suffer so much because of me. What Kanan did was wrong, but I cannot fault him entirely for it."

"Shallan . . ."

She puts a finger on my lips, effectively silencing my protest. "Their fight is a just one and I wish to help. I believe I can be of more help to the Tok'ra then I can to your people."

One of the Tok'ra men walks over to Shultz. I watch as the sergeant dials up the gate and turn my attention towards it as I hear the kawoosh of the wormhole opening. I watch two of the Tok'ra leave then turn my attention back to Shallan.

I don't agree with her. The Tok'ra do nothing but use people to fulfill their own needs then toss them away like yesterday's trash, but the decision is hers. It's her life.

I nod once and turn towards the sergeant. I pause at the feel of a hand on my shoulder, and turn back around. Before I realize what she's doing, I'm embraced in a tight hug. Shocked, I just stand there. After a moment, I return her hug.

She holds on for a minute longer, then releases me. Standing on her tippy toes, she gently kisses my cheek. "Thank you for rescuing me, Colonel Jack O'Neill of the Tau'ri. You truly are the brave, honorable, warrior I have heard so much about. I am forever in your debt. I will never forget you or what you have done for me this day." That said, she turns and follows the last Tok'ra through the gate.

I watch in silence. When the wormhole snaps shut, I turn to Shultz. "Dial it up, Major. Time to go home."

"Sir, I think you should let . . ."

A harsh glare effectively silences him. He nods and he turns to the sergeant. "You heard the man, Gibbons. Dial Earth."

It takes all I've got to walk unaided, up the ramp and through the shimmering pool. I stagger as I exit the wormhole and immediately turn my attention to the control room.

I don't think I've ever seen a bigger grin on General Hammond's face.

"Stand down." Hammond commands. The SF's lower their guns. I think they're smiling too.

The doors slide open and I see the beaming faces of my teammates. Even Teal'c is smiling. I manage a weak smile. "Miss me kids?"

That's it. The last of the adrenaline leaves me and my trembling muscles can no longer support me. I sink wordlessly to my knees. My friends are at my side in a flash. The last thing I see before my eyes slide shut is three relieved faces.

_TBC_


	20. Home Again, Home Again, Jigity Jig

**Home Again, Home Again, Jigity Jig**  
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 9/14/06

CATEGORIES: Angst, Missing Scene/Episode Tag, POV, Series

CONTENT WARNINGS: A few bad words

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

WORD COUNT: 1532

AUTHORS NOTE: This was originally supposed to be much smaller. My muse, obviously, had other ideas. This is the end of this series, but not the end of the whumping for poor Jack. I had actually planned to have at least five or six fic's that deal with Jack's recovery, but I've decided to do those as a separate series. That might be a little while in coming though as I have other fic's I've been trying to finish for a while now, but the muse refused to work on anything except this and the odd drabble. Time to reassert who's in charge here!

* * *

I open my eyes slowly and my mind races. 

Oh crap! Tell me that escape wasn't just a hallucination.

The light dims and I recognize the ceiling I'm now staring at. Dull, infirmary grey. I'm home. It wasn't a dream.

I hear Carter's voice. I don't need to look to know Teal'c and Jonas are here too. I stay quiet and listen to them talk. God, I missed them.

Okay. I've heard enough. Much as I'd love to just listen to them talk just to hear their voices, I don't much care for the subject. Time to let them know I'm awake.

"Hey, I'm trying to sleep here."

They all turn and look at me. Even Teal'c is smiling. That's a rare sight. He should do it more often.

"Sorry, sir. Glad to see you're okay." She says softly.

I don't think 'okay' is quite how I feel right now. I don't even have the strength to return the smile.

"Listen, that was a good idea you had there."

"Actually, sir, we all contributed."

I know that, Carter. Daniel told me. Of course, I can't tell them that. They'll think I'm nuts, or that I imagined him being there.

She walks over by my side. I honestly believed I'd never seen any of them again. "Do you need anything, or. . ."

"Water." Feeling a bit parched here. Course, that tends to happen when you don't get anything to drink for . . . God only knows how long.

"Sure." She turns and walks out. Teal's, who is still smiling, and Jonas follow her out. I wonder, briefly, why they are leaving, and realize Doc probably gave them a time limit. I'm sure she'll be in here soon.

Something about Carter's tone and body language tells me something is bugging her. I can't put my finger on it just yet, and at this point I'm too tired to care. Hopefully, once the whole withdrawal from the sarcophagus thing is done, I'll remember to talk to her about it.

Daniel appears as Jonas leaves.

"I always seem to be saying good-bye to you."

Still got that knack for understatement, I see. "Yeah. I noticed that." Not _my_ decision. "Why don't'cha ya stick around for a while?" Convince me I'm really not just imagining this.

"I can't, really."

Can't, or won't. Okay, that was mean. I don't really care at this point. I never claimed to be a nice guy. Besides, I didn't say it out loud and I'm _fairly_ certain ascension doesn't make people telepathic.

"You just did." You promised you'd stay with me until it was over. And you did. What's a few more hours . . . or days? Well, I guess Oma and all her glowy buddies would frown on that. Bastards.

He shrugs. "Special occasion."

Humph. Not really sure I'd call it 'special'.

"Christmas?" Though I'm almost certain I didn't miss that one. I couldn't have been there that long.

"No."

"Groundhog day?" Although my 'experience' was much more painful then Bill Murphy's.

"No." He closes his eyes and shakes his head. He hasn't changed.

"I've got my journey, you've got yours?"

"Something like that, yeah."

Ya know, I never cared for philosophy. I just nod at him.

"Look, I know you don't think so . . . right now. I mean I know you have your doubts, but . . . ah . . . because you've been through something no one should have to go through. I guess what I'm trying to say is, you're gonna be alright."

He sounds so damn sure of that.

"How do you know?"

"You're just going to have to trust me." He smiles. Not a big broad grin, just a small knowing smile.

"I can do that." I'm not nearly as sure as he sounds, but he's never lied to me before. Maybe he knows something I don't.

"You gonna be okay?" I'm sure he will be, but I have to ask. He may be all glowy now, but I still feel the need to protect him. Even though I can't, and, honestly, he doesn't need me to anywhere near as much as he used too. Oma better be watching out for him.

"I'm gonna be fine."

I'm not so sure about that. No one should have to see what was done to me, done to a friend. I find it hard to believe that ascended has changed Daniel that much to the point where this wouldn't bother him. If it had, he wouldn't have risked the wrath of the 'others' to be there for me.

He turns towards the door. My gaze follows his. Carter is back with my water. In an instant, Daniel's gone again. No poof, no flash of light. He's just . . . gone.

Carter walks over and sets the cup down on the stand. "Here you go, sir."

"Thanks."

She touches my hand, giving a gentle squeeze. "Goodnight." The she turns and leaves.

I watch her go then look up at the ceiling. I can't see Daniel anymore, but I can still _feel_ him. "Thanks."

A short time later, Janet comes in and stands beside me. "How are you feeling, sir?"

I'm not sure how to answer that. There's no doubt I'm happy as a pig in mud to be out of that place, but so much of _me_ was stripped away I'm not sure I will ever be able to get it back. Despite what Daniel said.

"Good, Doc. Just glad to be home."

She scowls. She's not buying it. I never could fool her.

"The truth please, Colonel."

What the hell does she want me to say? "Peachy, just honky dory. Can I go home now?"

That usually gets at least a smile out of her, though she tries to hide it. Not this time. Most likely, she's not happy with my tone of voice. There's no hint of a whine or kidding tone. My voice sounds flat, even to me.

"Sir, I know you'll never tell us everything that happened there, but I'm here if you ever want to talk about it."

"Not freaking likely, Doc."

"Sir, please, don't push me away. Or any of us. We're your friends. We will be here for you if you let us. You know this won't be easy. You helped Daniel get through his withdrawal. Let us help you. You can't do this alone. This is one battle you can't fight on your own, not if you intend to win it."

I stare blankly at the ceiling like she isn't here and I didn't hear a word she said. I have to deal with this on my own, my way. Like I always do. I can't drag them into this.

"Please, Colonel, even if you don't want to talk about what that bastard did to you, don't push us away. We _can_ help you. Stop being such a stubborn ass and let us in!"

"You don't know shit, _doc_!" I spit the word like it's vile. "Go away and leave me the fuck alone!"

I turn and glare at her. The anguish and anger and helplessness in her eyes stops what I was about to say and makes me turn my head towards the ceiling again. I remember that look all to well.

My mind drifts back several years to the last time I saw that look on the face of a woman I cared about. The face of the woman I loved more than life. It's the look that was on Sara's face as I walked out of our house for what was supposed to be a suicide mission. I never told her anything about it, but she knew. It still tears me up that I did that to her. If I'd just let her in, helped her, and let her help me, we'd still be married today. I'm sure of it.

God! I was such a bastard. Still am. I can't hurt anyone like that again.

A gentle hand wipes away a tear I didn't realize had begun to roll down my cheek. Then it smoothes my hair in that comforting way that always lets me know the Doc is here, even when I'm not lucid enough to be fully aware of my surroundings. I can't look at her again, not right now. Her fingers slide down my cheek and lightly touch my hand. She starts to move away, but I grab her hand and hold on tightly as my eyes close.

I don't know what I ever did to deserve having people like the Doc and my teammates, and even Hammond, in my life. Especially the way I acted after Charlie died, but I can't loose them now.

It won't be easy. Hell, it's going to be a long hard road. The withdrawal symptoms will start soon. Ya know, this whole 'drugged out strapped to the bed' thing is really getting old. And I know that's what's coming. The hallucinations will start and Frasier won't have any choice but to try and sedate me.

Despite that, I know Daniel was right. My friends, my _family_ will be here for me.

This time, though I can never tell them everything that was done to me, I won't push them away.

_THE END_


End file.
